Once Upon a Time
by FLECHER
Summary: The story behind Alma's doll, and the reason it ultimately set off the destruction of Fairport. One-shot


_Something I have been wanting to write for a while. This is partly taken from my personal feelings upon playing the games, and a lot because of my interest in Alma herself. What if someone tried to show her kindness? Honest rather than just an act to get something from her. I'm looking at **you** Dr. Green. Anyway...  
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_I hope it comes across well. Enjoy.  
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><p><strong>Once Upon a Time<strong>

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><p>It was quiet, aside from the dull thrum of the reactor not too far in the distance. She liked that, the voices had gone away, or maybe they were sleeping. She could never tell if they were just watching, waiting for her. Waiting for what? They never said.<p>

The back and forth motion of the swing was calming, numbing the pressure under her skin. She couldn't feel that razor wire against her head, people left her alone when she was here; even father. Somehow she liked that too, if people stayed away then she wouldn't feel it, that pricking sensation, the burning. Their stares were always so cold, like they didn't see a girl when they looked at her. She gripped the rope of the swing tighter, biting her lip. Why couldn't they leave her alone forever? If they were only going to hurt, why couldn't they just go away?

She leaned her head back, turning her face to the overcast sky. She didn't like the rain, but the sun wasn't comforting either; too bright and warm. Outside heat wasn't nice, but inside made her feel safe. When was the last time the heat came from inside? She couldn't remember...

Some distant memory of being rocked back and forth, curled and covered in blankets, brushed her mind. She couldn't see, hear or feel anything more than faint sensations, yet the memory made her feel so secure. Was it mother? Father never mentioned anything about that faceless person, soft and warm, their voice nothing more than wordless cooing. He never explained what happened; why couldn't they come back?

"Alma."

She flinched, looking straight ahead to meet grey eyes in an unfamiliar face. She didn't know this person, but the pressure didn't grow; it didn't hurt. No fear? No hatred or anger? Nothing came from this person and she suddenly found herself curious rather than afraid. But unfamiliar faces could still hurt, show one mask then reveal another.

She took in their appearance, bland and neat, they looked like a soldier; but this person was a woman. Pale with dark hair, eyes like slate; the face was nice, maybe friendly. Why were her arms behind her back? Alma could tell the soldier was holding something and didn't much care for it being kept out of her sight. She frowned and chose to ignore the other's presence, continuing to swing back and forth, observing the clouds.

The soldier moved forwards, no hesitation but not fast either, she didn't fear the girl and this puzzled her. When fear wasn't present, hatred was; but she couldn't feel that from the woman either. Why was she here? What was she hiding?

The soldier stopped a few steps away, slightly to the side to avoid Alma's swinging. She avoided the soldier's eyes, eyes of soft stone, not wanting to give the impression she actually cared what the other was hiding. If the soldier wasn't here to take her back then she wouldn't let the other's presence trouble her; it was always a big man who took her back, grey, faceless and mean.

"I have something for you."

The words rolled off with a strange, regal accent. Not American; maybe that's why the soldier didn't fear or hate her. She did not know her. That was why the eyes were soft.

Alma slowed until her swing came to a stop and turned her eyes on the soldier, who had since crouched by her side. What did the woman want?

The soldier shifted on the spot, moving whatever it was in her hands, "I heard you might like it; someone wanted you to smile."

Alma frowned, studying the soldier's face intently. Where was the lie – the attack? Didn't the soldier want something from her? Instead the woman pulled an item from behind her back and presented it in both hands, holding it upright. "I know you like your swing; maybe you'll like this too?"

The frown faded and she stared at the thing, momentarily paralyzed in a mixture of surprise and unfamiliar glee.

It was a doll.

Why would they give her a doll? What would they gain from that? What trick was this?

Regardless she reached out, captivated by its simple pretty dress and placid smiling face.

"Time's up."

Her hands flinched back, grabbing the rope as if to root her to the spot. The soldier scowled deeply and looked over her shoulder at the tall man; Alma closed her eyes tightly upon feeling a spike of anger in the woman.

"What are you bothering with that for?" the man was glowering behind his mask, she could hear it in his voice.

The soldier shook her head, "why do you care?" she then looked back at Alma. There was still no hostility in her gaze, "my name is Lucy. I'll be back soon; maybe you should keep this?" she held out the doll again, but Alma only gripped the swing rope tighter, eyes fixated on the tall man. Lucy sighed softly and got to her feet.

Alma didn't mind, she knew it was just a trick.

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><p>Another day and another pleasingly overcast sky. Father was letting her out more often, but the white men were still mean, hidden faces with needles in hand. Maybe something bad was coming; did he feel bad? She could feel pain from him but couldn't understand what from or why.<p>

Adults were confusing creatures...

Her swinging slowed down when she noticed an empty spot near her, cold and hollow. But it was comforting, even inviting; there was no suffering to be had. Why-

"Alma."

Again. It was the same soldier woman from before. Alma twisted just enough to see her, eyes narrowed; why had she come back? Alma gave her nothing before; they never had the patience to try kindness again. The kindness and smiles were always tricks, when broken there was only darkness. So why did she come back?

Lucy smiled, "I was late before, you'd been out most of the day. Sorry about that."

Alma frowned and looked away, going back to her swinging. It didn't matter what the excuses were; the soldier wanted something and she wasn't going to fall for it. Yet there wasn't a familiar spike of frustration. She heard Lucy walk closer, her boots rustling the dry grass, but resolutely ignored her.

There was no attempt to catch her eye, or even coax words from her. Lucy merely sat down next to her, out of the path of her swinging, and looked down at the doll in her hands. Sometimes she would look up at the sky watching the clouds shift and change, but otherwise she was just quiet. She just sat there with her.

Eventually Alma slowed to a stop, staring at the quiet soldier. Lucy pretended not to notice, keeping her eyes on the clouds. Alma frowned; so the soldier would ignore her now? She got to her feet and moved to stand in front of her, peering down at the woman. Lucy finally met her gaze and smiled; her eyes were strange when she smiled. They didn't look like glass or ice.

Lucy held out the doll, being careful not to obscure her face behind it. "I didn't get to give you this before. Do you still want it?"

Alma's frown deepened, searching Lucy's face, her emotions, for any sign of malice. But there was none, and it frightened her. Anger, hatred, fear; these were familiar. Her frown lessened, uncertainty winning over her. Lucy's face seemed to soften, "it's okay. All I want is for you to have the doll, but if you don't want it; that's fine too."

She reached out; a small pale hand marred by scrapes, tentative and hesitant to trust. She didn't want to trust, she didn't want anything from this stranger. Yet her fingers brushed the dolls soft hair and her chest tightened. Why? Her other hand reached out and clutched the doll's waist. Lucy slowly let go until Alma was holding it fully.

She stared down at the tiny cloth girl in her hands, unsure what to make of it and unable to understand why it felt like her chest was trying to crush itself.

Lucy tilted her head, "do you like it?"

Alma flinched and looked up from the doll, suddenly holding the doll closer for fear of it being taken. It only confused her more when Lucy smiled again, "I'll take that as a yes."

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><p>"Incidents have been down haven't they?"<p>

"That's not the point. You know what happened."

"I've been coming here for three months now. She's used to me. Just let me in. Or do I need to break another jaw?"

"You smug bitch, just because-"

"Just because what? Oh no please, keep going, exactly what do you know about me?"

"..."

"That's what I thought. Now get it sorted. This isn't where I can do this."

"But-!"

"Do it. Or I'll do more than rip out your teeth."

Such angry voices. Two spots were close by, outside her cell, one was red and painful, the other black and filled with cold comfort. A blank canvas she knew well.

The door creaked open and her arms tightened around her doll. She kept her head down as two big men took her through bland halls and into a walled off area outside. Her swing.

The two men left and shut the gate behind them. Alma didn't really notice, focusing on the figure leaning against the tree her swing was tied to; Lucy. She hurried over, tapping a hand against the soldier's waist. Lucy had her arms crossed, but her face was kind when she looked down. "Hello."

Alma tilted her head, why had Lucy sounded so angry before? She didn't feel any spike from the woman but her voice had been full of fire.

Lucy gave a quiet sigh, "there was a fire in one of the labs near you, Alma-"

She backed away now, a deep frown coming to her young face. Lucy's brow rose and she held out of her hands either side of her, a harmless gesture. "You're not in trouble," she murmured, crouching so she was eye level with the girl. "I just want to know if you did that."

Alma fidgeted with the doll, looking away.

Lucy leaned back against the tree, crossing her legs. "You don't like it here."

An obvious statement, Alma looked at her sharply in brief resentment. But Lucy didn't appear in the least bit worried by the look, "I don't blame you."

That was unexpected; Alma's expression softened. Lucy only shook her head, "but I don't know what they'll do if they know that." A flicker of pain danced across her skin and Alma recoiled slightly; hatred. Why? What had she done? Was it hatred for her? It had to be it always was, Lucy was just good at hiding-

"They're not exactly _kindest_ of people," Lucy scowled.

Hatred for _them_? That was new and strange; and so painfully welcoming.

Alma frowned and walked closer until she was standing right in front of the soldier, then sank to her knees, still holding the doll close to her chest. She reached out and touched her hand to Lucy's face, the soldier remaining completely still the whole time. She frowned, unable to make out the fire in her chest as something good or bad. She didn't want Lucy to go away again. Why couldn't she always stay?

Lucy then did something strange. She held her arms out to her sides, but not to seem harmless; this was different. It was like she expected something. It might be that foggy memory of being wrapped in warmth, soft cooing and blankets, but she knew nothing bad would happen if she moved closer to the soldier. So she climbed into Lucy's lap and curled up, the soldier's arms wrapped around her and that vague memory was suddenly so much sharper.

This was safety, this was warmth and comfort.

She was home.

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><p>"I'll be back soon, I promise," Lucy smiled, gently holding Alma's wrists as the girl tried to hang on to her. "I'll always come back, remember that okay? Besides, I'm not going to miss your 8th birthday." Alma scowled deeply, not in the slightest bit pleased with the offer. Lucy tilted her head, "what if I brought something nice? Something you can eat; something sweet and tasty."<p>

Alma tilted her head, her frustration with the soldier momentarily forgotten. Lucy smiled again, "Then I'll bring something. Just promise to be a good girl for me, okay?"

The girl pouted and looked away, but didn't make any real effort to look angry with the woman. Lucy gave a soft laugh, "I'll come back soon." She let go of the girl and turned away, leaving her with her two 'guards.'

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><p>This was such a twisted situation that Lucy could scarcely believe herself involved. But Harlan had been very insistent on the kind of help needed. Not like she could've said no; Armacham owned her. They saved her life, she couldn't remember her previous one and for all intents and purposes; she was their tool. Whatever they did, it deadened her to the supposed effects of Alma's powers. Though any attempts to recreate that seeming immunity had resulted in many deaths; and no success. The candidate had to be specific, and at the point where death was all but certain. Apparently candidates were rare, but Lucy didn't really care for what Armacham told her.<p>

Whoever she'd been in her last life, she knew she'd been a good person; none of this seemed right to her.

She could understand why Alma was feared, why she unnerved people, but what she couldn't understand was Armacham's need to be complete monsters about it when doing their beloved research on the child. She was a scared child; not a thing to be used like so much meat.

Shaking her head, Lucy stepped through the last set of containment doors and immediately froze at the feeling of a barrel pressing to the back of her skull.

"You're making this worse."

"Define 'worse,' Martin – I'm a little shaky on that right now."

"She's too attached to you."

"You suggest I be horrible towards a child? I'm trying to help her."

"We don't want 'help' – we want 'manageable.'"

Lucy's mouth twisted into a snarl, "tools! You think we're nothing but weapons. Things! Items to be discarded once their use is gone! Either that or just throw them away when they're too wilful."

"No one asked for your bullshit opinion, _soldier._"

"Those were my orders, the _request_ that Harlan specifically gave me. He told me to help her. He couldn't face her, so he told me to fill the place that he could not."

"That bastard couldn't care less about his daughter. No one would let this go on if they cared about their child."

"So you admit it's wrong?"

"I admit your opinion is worthless and moot. He wanted you to make her pliant and easy to deal with. That's all."

"Coward... you people don't have the spine to realize this is wrong. Just as well, because then you'd realize that this _will_ come back to haunt you."

She heard the gun cock and press harder against her skull. A smile curled her lips, "I hope you've made your peace with god. Because hell is about to come calling for you.

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><p>Maybe she could call the doll Lucy. Then the soldier wouldn't always be away, she would stay here in some form until she returned. Her mouth curved strangely and it took her a moment to realize it was a smile the same as Lucy's.<p>

She held the doll close, huddled in the driest corner of her cell. If she closed her eyes and focused she could still feel Lucy's comforting darkness, strong and cool.

A bang echoed across her mind and the darkness suddenly left. The cold was gone.

Alma bolted to her feet and struck her head on the low ceiling. Hissing she stood again and scrambled to the bars above her, dropping Little Lucy on the ground.

No. That wasn't right. It always faded slowly, never sudden or painful – and that sound, she knew what it was. No. No, no, that couldn't happen. She closed her eyes again, trying to find it, search for that cooling darkness but...

There was nothing.

Her chest tightened and she clutched at her dress, it was too hot; her heart felt like it was burning. Why would this happen? What had she done? Why did they...

_They_ did this.

"Lucy..."

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><p>"Don't get rid of the body, I want it preserved. We might still be able to gain something from this."<p>

"Yes, sir."

Martin shook his head, looking down at his coat and noticing with disgust some of Lucy's blood upon it. He could clean it later, he had research to return to. Holstering his revolver he walked back through the containment doors, soon finding himself within the labs after a brisk pace.

He settled at his desk, and began typing in the possible uses for that insipid fool's body when something caught his attention. His screen was reflecting fire behind him. He twisted at the waist but there was no fire. Muttering he reached up and cleaned his glasses, only to look at his computer and see the same thing. "What the..."

"_Lucy..."_

The screen exploded, shards of glass slicing into Martin's face. Falling off his chair he shrieked, cradling his face vainly and painting the pale tiles of the floor a vindictive red. He barely had the time to wonder what happened as when he looked up, each wall in the lab was suddenly wreathed in flames, crawling across the ceiling and quickly surrounding him in a murderous heat. His clothes caught fire, and struggling he tried to bat it out, only for it to burn even more.

He looked up, panting in fear and pain, to meet the burning yellow eyes of an otherwise pitiful looking child. She knew what he had done, and no force in this world was going to save him.

Hell was calling..._  
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><p><em>I merely wondered about Alma's doll, if it was something brought with her or if someone gave it to her. Then put a more distinct reason behind Alma's sudden attacking of the scientists. Not saying she didn't have reason to before, just adding to it.<em>

_Reviews will be appreciated._


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